Join the authors live for the chance to win a signed copy of the book.

Enlarge / Cover to The Mongoliad Book One. Enlarge to see entire cover.

In 2010, science fiction author Neal Stephenson launched The Mongoliad project, a collective of authors who wanted to build a new medieval universe inspired by sword fighting. Stephenson and six other authors released installments as a serial, and readers contributed wiki entries as well as glossaries as it was published via its website and apps on Android and iOS. This ambitious work set a new tone for pushing open source elements into the writing and publishing process, fusing the world of fantasy fiction with wikis and collaborative platforms. We’re excited to announce a live video chat on Thursday, May 17 at 6pm CST (that's 11pm GMT) with the authors of The Mongoliad: Neal Stephenson, Greg Bear, E.D. deBirmingham, Mark Teppo, Joseph Brassey, Erik Bear, and Cooper Moo.

Join our live video chat on Thursday, May 17 at 6pm CDT (11pm GMT)

The Mongoliad has just been released in novel form by 47North as a trade paperback and an e-book, as the first part of a trilogy. We will discuss with the authors how the collaborative serial influenced the novels, and whether they might experiment with some of those collaborative technologies in the world of book publishing. The Ars OpenForum discussed the project in 2010, and we are eager to catch up with the authors to find out how things went.

Are you curious about the future of the series? If you participated in the original open-source project, what were your experiences in reading and participating in the story when it was just a serial? Maybe you have questions about the trilogy that would you like to discuss with the authors. During our live video interview, the authors of the project will talk about upcoming releases, and we will give Ars readers a chance to ask questions live.

How to join the video chat

Readers will be able to view in three ways: You can watch via the Ars Ustream channel, the video player embedded in this post, or the Ars Facebook fan page. We will take your questions live at that hour. Questions can be submitted via Ustream, and you can sign in with Twitter or Facebook as well. You don't need to register for any service to watch the broadcast. Sign-in is only required to comment and chat.

Read an exclusive excerpt

The Mongoliad as a first book is now available. We also have an exclusive excerpt from chapter 13 of “The Mongoliad” for Ars readers below.

Win a signed copy of The Mongoliad

We’re also happy to announce that Ars readers have a chance to win a signed galley copy of The Mongoliad. All you need to do is submit a question for the panel of authors via UStream. You can post by using your Facebook or Twitter accounts. We will select one winner from the questions we receive during the live broadcast. The winner will be announced on Friday, May 18th.

“I don't mean to distract you from what is most important—,” said Brother Rutger, as he poised the helm above Haakon's head.

“You mean, not dying under the blade of whatever comes out of yonder tunnel?”

“Indeed. But we need information about the Khan. His special pavilion sits above the south end of the arena, positioned so that the sun will never shine in his eyes. There must be wooden walls behind all that canvas, behind all those hanging drapes that obscure its interior. We know so little about the layout inside. How many sit with the Khan? Does the pavilion have gates or doors that we would need to break down should the javelin-throw fail? A railing over which we would need to vault? Guards who would need to be put out of the way? What is the Khan's escape route should our first and second attempts miscarry?”

Haakon wanted to roar with anger, but it came out as a strangled laugh. “I am about to do battle with a demon,” he complained, “and you want me to—”

“It's no demon,” Brother Rutger said, and spat on the loose ocher ground that had been tracked down the tunnel on the boots of surviving combatants. “It's a man dressed as one.”

He rammed the helm down onto Haakon's head and slapped him on the ass. Even through surcoat, chain mail, gambeson, and drawers, the impact came through solidly. “And the Red Veil,” he added. “We still wish to know what lies on the other side."

Haakon grunted as he adjusted the helmet to suit him. The mysterious veil. It hung from the outer edge of the Khan's box, obscuring the southern gate from the arena. Victorious fighters were allowed to pass beyond the veil, but they had to be able to walk out of the arena without assistance. So far, no fighter had won his bout so decisively as to be without injury. Three other Brothers had fought in the arena before him. Two had won their fights but their wounds had been severe enough that they had not survived the night.

Rutger put his hand on Haakon’s shoulder. They regarded each other silently. Saying goodbye would be worse than useless, since Rutger and the others would see it as a premature admission of defeat. Like his brothers who had fought before him, Haakon knew he was supposed to be full of martial bluster. If anything, he should scoff at Rutger’s unspoken concern and say something to the effect that he would return from this fight in less time than it took to run out to the gutter and take a shit.

But that wouldn’t be true, and to speak so falsely—especially when Rutger would know he was lying—seemed to be behavior ill-suited to the role he was supposed to be playing.

I am a Knight of the Virgin Defender.

Haakon slapped his hand over Rutger’s briefly and then tromped up the tunnel, adjusting his mail. With each step, the loose red earth became deeper and softer under his feet.

As he walked through the narrow tunnel, he reflected on Taran’s final words to the young members of the Shield-Brethren who would be fighting in the arena. As their oplo, Taran had never been one for grandiose speeches. His instruction had always been brusque, and his directive to his student had been equally to the point. This is not a sparring tournament like the ones offered at Týrshammar. Here, given the chance, your opponent will kill you. Your field of battle will be constricted, and the ranks of spectators will confuse and disorient you. Ignore all of that. Remember the one rule: do not die. Keep your focus. Know thy way, warrior; know thy balance and strength. Sophrosyne. That is how you will prevail.

Haakon had never understood the meaning of that Greek word, one of Feronantus’s favorites. Raphael had once chided Feronantus that in Alexandria, it meant virginity. Their leader had not demurred. Still, Haakon was a virgin . . .

At the end of the tunnel, two men stepped out to bar his way, Mongols both, armored in the layered scale and lamellar of the steppes. Haakon paused, as one spoke a single guttural word and held out his hand: hold.

Even though he was ready for the fight to begin, Haakon slowed. There was no reason to hurry. The sun was shining out there. As soon as it struck his helmet, he would begin to overheat. The rag-stuffed cap that protected his freshly close-cropped head would become saturated, and then the sweat would begin trickling into his eyes, ruining the view through the helmet-slits. Not long after that, he would begin to lose focus and strength.

Sophrosyne. He could wait.

A third Mongol appeared and said something to the two barring Haakon's path, a flow of words both harsh and lyrically smooth, but babble to Haakon's ears. The two guards stood aside and the third gave him a nod whose meaning could not be mistaken: Haakon was now to enter.

As he stepped out of the shadows, sunlight greeted him in a flash, blinding him for a moment before his eyes adjusted. Blinking, he took in the view. The Khan's box, supposing it even existed, should be up there somewhere to his right.

Haakon’s view, from the western entrance, was blocked by spectators. Not Onghwe’s Mongols—a snooty lot who didn't like to mix with inferiors—but a rabble of Saracens, Slavs, Germans, and Franks. All of them had betrayed their races to curry favor with the rulers of the world—or, depending on how you looked at it, made necessary deals to prevent their people from being destroyed.

In spite of these obstructions, he could see the bulbous shape of a pavilion draped with heavy fabric, shielding not only the Khan from view but also protecting the pale necks of the Khan's concubines from the browning radiance of the sun. Satisfied that he knew where the Khan would be, he looked to his left, scanning the recently raked sand. The circle was large, maybe as much as twenty faðmr from where he stood to the opposite gate, more than enough space for two men to fight.

For a moment, Haakon's brain quailed at the idea that this arena would host more than a pair of combatants. Surely they wouldn’t send more than one against him at a time, not even for the perverse pleasure of the dissolute Khan . . .

Focus. Taran, again. Fight as you were trained. The rest does not matter.

Haakon scanned the circle again. He was the only fighter in the arena. He glanced over his shoulder at the Mongols behind him. Why had they blocked him? Why was he alone? Were they going to loose animals on him? Why—

Haakon adjusted his grip on his Great Sword of War and decided he would walk cautiously to the center of the arena. He kept his eyes on the dark opening of the eastern portal—the place where his opponent would emerge—and let the rest of his body relax.

The spectators became a blur of color and motion. Their raucous noise became nothing more than a rhythmic pulse, like the sound of the waves against the rocky foundation of Týrshammar's citadel. His heart slowed, too, seeking to be in concert with those waves, and his breathing followed.

”Zzzu Zzzu Zzzu!”

He listened more closely. The crowd was shouting a single word in unison. Blurred together, their cries washed across the arena in a buzzing sweep:

“Zug! Zug! Zug!”

The spectators roared now, a thrashing storm of sound. Haakon slowly realized they were calling out a name, working themselves into a howling, ravenous mob. They craved blood, demanded death, and worst of all, they wanted Zug!

Haakon felt like puking.

In the darkness of the eastern gate, something moved—a shadow of black and red with broad square shoulders and a large white mouth. Slowly, emerging into the bright sunlight with all the panache of a royal concubine making an entrance into a court somehow filled with rude bumpkins—the outlandish figure emerged into the open.

Oh heavens... I know this is going to get me killed... but... Where is the emotion and suspense? The characters sure don't act like they feel it. I don't pretend that every work of literature should be a masterwork, but at least give me atmosphere! <- This is all the editor in me going berserk.

1). It's Reamde, not READme.2). Yes, the title of THIS book looks like Mongoloid.3). Another of Stephenson's books is titled "Anathem", dangerously close to "Anthem". Does this asshole have some fascination with fucking with people with his titles? If so, he's doing well.4). This excerpt is terrible and in serious need of a skilled editor before it's published.5). I fear that the author(s)' writing is USUALLY published like this and that makes me not at all interested in any of their other work.

This book is in my wishlist on amazon, but I'm waiting for the hardback that comes out in the fall cause it looks better on my bookshelves. (and I have a few dozen other unread books already lying around the house)

1). It's Reamde, not READme.2). Yes, the title of THIS book looks like Mongoloid.3). Another of Stephenson's books is titled "Anathem", dangerously close to "Anthem". Does this asshole have some fascination with fucking with people with his titles? If so, he's doing well.4). This excerpt is terrible and in serious need of a skilled editor before it's published.5). I fear that the author(s)' writing is USUALLY published like this and that makes me not at all interested in any of their other work.

The Diamond Age and Snow Crash are two of the better books I've read in a very long time. Been sitting on Cryptonomicon for a while, I'll probably get around to reading it sometime soon.

I don't read a lot of fiction, but I try to read good sci-fi when I can. Stephenson fills that niche quite well.

Stephenson is my favorite author by far. Snow Crash is a great place to start, Cryptonomicon is where you really discover if you like Stephenson, and The Baroque Cycle is where you realize that Stephenson is actually not human. Anathem and Reamde were also good reads.

Stephenson has two classes of books, the more accessible adventure books (Snow Crash, Reamde) and the more complicated, history infused, awesomeness that is Cryptonomicon and Baroque Cycle. I am not surprised to find that some people don't care for the latter (my favorites) but its important to be aware that not all of his books are that dense. Anathem is a nice middle ground in a fascinating world.

Cryptonomicon was ok, though like the others it has some long sections of blather that could have been trimmed out by a good editor. Stephenson has a fine imagination but mumbles at times.

His finest work was the System of the World trilogy which takes historical fiction to a whole new level. Yes it is very long but he was on fire (as were some of his characters) through almost all of it, an amazing burst of energy, it is quite a romp. Electric.

I could not get through a quarter of Anathem. I eventually donated it to the library.

Bear has written some amazing books - Eon, Moving Mars, Queen of Angels, Darwin's Radio - but when he turns to just adventure, like the recent Halo books, it has no edge. He was much better, much scarier and provocative, when he probed just beyond the edges of today.

The excerpt above does not seem like either's finest. I'll be patient until they catch some real inspiration. Meanwhile, there are others to read who have more recently been sparky, like Charles Stross.

Can we get a way not to have to submit questions via twitter or facebook? Not all of us use these services, nor do we want to. Heck, you have a G+ stream. Could we submit questions there by any chance?

Could you just set up a temporary @arstechnica.com email address to accept questions for things like this? That would be my personal preference.

I could not get through a quarter of Anathem. I eventually donated it to the library.

[...].

Ouch, after the 1st 3rd it gets really good ;-)

But seriously, on my first read-through of Anathem, the first 150 pages or so felt a bit like a chore, but then the whole story kicks into gear, and things get really amazing from then on. I loved the whole concept of scientists/mathematicians behind walls in cloisters and the much more spiritual/believing society on the outside. Personally, Anathem is probably my favourite of Stephenson's books.

The System of the World trilogy is really outstanding as well, and I love the way historical characters and events have been interwoven with the fictional protagonists and stories. Just the sheer volume of the books made me run out of steam a couple of times.

Ok just a few things:3). Another of Stephenson's books is titled "Anathem", dangerously close to "Anthem". Does this asshole have some fascination with fucking with people with his titles? If so, he's doing well.4). This excerpt is terrible and in serious need of a skilled editor before it's published.5). I fear that the author(s)' writing is USUALLY published like this and that makes me not at all interested in any of their other work.

Anathem was really good, the idea of a secular monastery fascinating.

The excerpt above is terrible, really flat. I am currently reading The Cold Commands by Richard Morgan, and the difference in style is amazing.

TCC is also a "modern" take on presenting fantasy, and is much more focused on conveying the sense of violence and danger that pervades everything in the society, along with the political games the characters have to do. I find that approach to be much more realistic and compelling.

I'm hoping we have a strong showing by all of you tomorrow at the event. We scheduled it for 6 CST in hopes that it's easy for people to be able to watch and participate. This type of author chat is a bit new for us, and we definitely want to get the word out. See you during the event tomorrow.

Cryptonomicon was ok, though like the others it has some long sections of blather that could have been trimmed out by a good editor. Stephenson has a fine imagination but mumbles at times.

His finest work was the System of the World trilogy which takes historical fiction to a whole new level. Yes it is very long but he was on fire (as were some of his characters) through almost all of it, an amazing burst of energy, it is quite a romp. Electric.

I could not get through a quarter of Anathem. I eventually donated it to the library.

Bear has written some amazing books - Eon, Moving Mars, Queen of Angels, Darwin's Radio - but when he turns to just adventure, like the recent Halo books, it has no edge. He was much better, much scarier and provocative, when he probed just beyond the edges of today.

The excerpt above does not seem like either's finest. I'll be patient until they catch some real inspiration. Meanwhile, there are others to read who have more recently been sparky, like Charles Stross.

I agree with you about stephenson except the anathem part. the first 1/4 of anathem is very dense and i only powered through because i am obsessive about finishing books, the last half of that book is fan-f$cking-tastic and falls into the baroque cycle electricity. cryptonomicon is great, slightly longwinded but not even close to unforgivably so. and i'd rather have the story unedited from the authors pen than cut and pasted by an editor anyways. I have now read everything dude has published except for one of the ones he co-authored with his... great uncle(?)... and have yet to be dissapointed.

Cesar Torres / Cesar is the Social Editor at Ars Technica. His areas of expertise are in online communities, human-computer interaction, usability, and e-reader technology. Cesar lives in New York City.